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“Sorry,” Theo mutters.
“Don’t be. Seems like you had a good year.” I grin and sip my beer.
“Well, my good year is ending on a shitty note. Garçon!” Theo calls to the bartender, who gives him a tattooed bird before pouring more shots.
“So, what’s your story?” He asks. “Seriously. I’ve never seen a jock be such a recluse.”
“I’m a creature of my routine.” It’s the truth. The other half of it is a bitterness that has been eating me alive. “I break out once in a while. But I stick to my circle, and it’s small.” After alienating myself from the team and losing Harper, it’s never been truer.
“I get it. Mine is dwindling.”
“Yeah, be careful with that.” Lifting our freshly poured shots, I clink my glass to his. “To the graduating class of 2019.”
We toss them back, and I welcome the burn as it slides down my throat.
“So, are your parents coming to your graduation?”
Dad’s deteriorating rapidly in his mindset without the right meds and most likely won’t be able to make the trip. Mom is feeling more helpless by the second bearing witness to it. The situation is as fucked as it is impossible. “Nah.”
“Really, why?”
Tony nods toward me, cue stick in hand. “I’m up,” I say, avoiding more small talk that’ll lead to reminders about my failures, about a future I’m not ready to face. “See you, man.”
“See you.”
“Jesus Christ, man, if I hear that song one more time, I’m going to fucking lose it. Do you hear me?” Tony mutters in his thick New York accent. “Seriously, this kid is your roommate? Make it stop. They’re about to turn on him.” A group of bikers taking up residence at one of the long tables glances over to where Theo sits next to the jukebox listening to the same song on repeat, his fingers in the air as if he’s playing piano along with the melody. He’s got it bad, and I feel for him.
“Motherfucker,” the bartender spouts over the music. “I told that idiot to slow it down.”
Theo looks seconds away from passing out. The minute the song dies, I hear a collective sigh of relief throughout the bar. But when the o
pening notes to “Everywhere” by Tim McGraw sound again, I feel the tension in the air rise.
“Fuck this,” I hear muttered nearby as two of the bikers stand, and I hold up a hand to stop them. “I’ve got this.”
By the time I reach Theo, he’s sliding to the floor. I scoop him up and get a number of odd looks before nodding over to Tony. “Can I use your truck to get him home?”
Tony pulls out his keys. “He pukes, you buy the fucking thing.”
“Got it.”
“See you back in an hour?”
“Yeah,” I catch the keys and make my way out of the bar with Theo hanging limply over my shoulder. The second I get him in the passenger side, he looks up to me, broken in every way a woman can break a man.
“I fucking lost her because I’m too afraid to lose her. Ironic, isn’t it?” His head bobbles on his neck, his voice cracking as I shut the door and round the truck before hopping in. He’s still talking as I turn the engine. “What kind of idiot does that? Me.”
It’s emotional vomit, and I feel every word of it to my core. But Laney isn’t halfway across the country. I’m jealous of his advantage. Harper is where she wants to be, where she chose to be, over us. I can’t demand or stand in the way of her path, the way she can’t do the same to me. She knows I understand it, even if I don’t want to. I’m at a loss, I’m angry with her, not for leaving me, but for the way she cut us in half, tore us clean apart without anything, not an inch of flesh, bone or vein to cling to. I stay somewhere in a mix between anger and resentment at this point because I’m helpless to the situation. This man is mere miles away from his solution.
“It’ll work out if you want it to.”
“You say that, but women are a little more complicated than drive-thrus.”
This pisses me off. “Newsflash, band boy, I’m capable of carrying a ball, intelligent dialect, and a mature relationship.”
“Sorry, shit,” he slumps in his seat. “I didn’t mean anything by it. No offense.”
“Offense taken. Don’t be so quick to judge. It’s rough all over when it comes to girl shit. Believe that.”
